


From the Dining Table

by leslie057



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 80s, Action/Adventure, F/M, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Jancy, Jopper, Love, Mileven, Romance, Teenagers, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-07 11:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: This work is a series of occurances about the fictional characters from the 2016 show "Stranger Things." They may take place years after the events in the show do.





	1. 1; Sisterhood

Division **1: Sisterhood;** In which  Eleven's gentle temperament and Nancy's fearlessness join so gracefully when they have a spontaneous sleepover that they kind of start to feel like sisters. Also, they talk about boys.

 

_December 10, 1986_

 

"You may be poor, but the one thing nobody can take away from you is the freedom to f*ck up your life whatever way you want to," Nancy read silently.

She traced the edge of the clothy book paper absentmindedly.

 _Right on,_ she thought as she shifted on her matress, which was on the carpeted floor because she had not bought a bedframe yet. 

She felt kind of awful.

Not only was it a Friday night, but it was a trivial one. College life was not all it was made out to be.

Maybe one day everyone decided that it would only be described in jazzed-up manners.

Her dormitory was small, and her dormitory was a horrible shade of ivory, and her dormitory smelled like aged soap, and her dormitory was currently very empty because he roommate, Valerie, was a total party animal on the weekends. 

And she was reading  _Freedom_ , and she couldn't tell whether it sucked or not.

Truthfully, she felt awful because she missed someone.

She wouldn't dare say his name, but every once in a while, she would close her book and look at the cover fondly, for the author's name was the same as the name of the person she missed the most these days.

He had already gone home to Hawkins for Christmas break. She wanted to go, too. But she couldn't until the 19th.

She wondered if they were still best friends.

 _No_ , she told herself. Because no one should feel so sad when they think of their best friend. 

Suddenly, there was a quiet knock on her wooden door.

Nancy sat up, curiosity beginning to make its way toward the scattered thoughts swimming around in her head.

Eventually, she approached the door and opened it.

15-year-old Jane Hopper stood in its frame.

She was wearing a lavender sweater shirt that had rick rack trim on the sleeves and flared jeans. 

At first, Nancy was surprised.

Then, she was excited.

A piece of home had come to visit her, and she was terribly homesick!

Then, she noticed that El's eyes were glittery.

Then, she was sad because she realized that the glitter was tears. 

She calmly held Eleven's wrists.

"El? What's wrong? Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

Eleven sniffled.

Nancy pulled her in, closing the door.

She led her to the mattress, and El sat down, her breathing shaky.

Nancy kneeled in front of her, feeling unhelpful.

"Hey, El. Please talk to me. I need to know if you're hurt."

El wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"Hop-Hopper drove me h-here. I'm not hurt." She shook her head.

"I-I'm having trouble at school. Trouble with my classmates. He didn't know w-what to tell me. I asked to come here. He said it wa-it was okay."

Nancy pressed her lips together, her heart seemingly sinking.

"Girl talk..." Nancy said to herself in a low voice, understanding what El needed.

"It-it's silly. I'm sorry. Can leave, it's just..."

"No," Nancy refused. "You should stay. I used to have problems with other kids in high school all the time. We should talk. Is that okay?"

Eleven had gained hope very quickly.

"Okay," she sniffled again.

Nancy got up, and Eleven watched her. 

"Do you like pizza?" Nancy picked up a box from the counter.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

"She pushed you?"

Nancy and Eleven were sprawled out on the floor, eating leftover pepperoni pizza. 

"Yes. Thursday. She said 'bitch.' She pushed me into the stall. Th-the bathroom stall. I waited, she left. I got up. I-I didn't tell anyone. She said not to. But now sh-she talks about me. To all the classmates." 

"Talks about you?"

"Rumors, they're called," Eleven explained. 

Nancy smiled sadly.

"Well, what does she say?"

"Mean things. Like, I belong in a lab. She called me a..."

Eleven tried to recall something.

"A 'hure,' " she pronounced.

Nancy furrowed her brow. Then she figured out what she was trying to say. 

"It's... it's 'whore,' " Nancy corrected. She did not know Eleven that well, but right now she desperately wanted to protect her. 

"Whore?"

"It's something that superficial girls like to call nice girls. It's like saying they're...they want attention and sleep with lots of guys."

Eleven seemed overwhelmed.

"But I-I didn't do anything." She was definitely gonna cry again.

Nancy stopped toying with a thread on her courdroy pants and grabbed El's hand.

"No, I  _know_ you didn't, El. You're kind and brave and smart. Listen, don't let those girls get to you."

Eleven listened intently.

"Besides, they're gonna end up with pathetic jocks and pathetic lives."

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

It was 11:00 at night. Nancy and Eleven had put up their napkins, turned on music, and stopped talking about stupid teenagers. 

"How is everyone?" Nancy wanted to know. She felt like she had missed so much.

"Happy," Eleven said.

"Mike misses you, and your parents miss you. Jonathan misses you, and even Hopper talks about you sometimes."

And just like that, Nancy's heart doubled in pace. 

The mention of a name can do that to you, apparently. 

Nancy felt ridiculous and shy. 

Eleven somehow sensed this.

"What's wrong?"

Nancy brought herself out of her head.

Her lips were chapped and her hands were sweating.

"I-I guess I can't say."

"Can." The curly haired girl tried to mimic the way Nancy had encouraged her. 

Nancy rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Can't." She sighed

Silence rose. And the both of them felt a great connection. As the wind outside fluttered Nancy's sheer curtains, they felt sisterhood.

"What if I tell you a secret?" Eleven suggested softly.

Nancy looked up from the scar on her hand.

"Alright."

"Mike is my favorite friend."

Nancy uncrossed her legs.

"That...is very sweet," she observed. 

El nodded. 

They didn't say anything.

"It's okay if you don't say," Eleven established gently.

Nancy paused for several seconds.

"Y'know Jonathan?"

El nodded as she played with Nancy's bracelet.

"He is my favorite friend, but I don't know if I'm his."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I do know that Freedom wasn't written anywhere near the 80s. Just go with it. <3


	2. 1[Part2]; Nancy's Homecoming

Division **1 [Part 2]: Nancy's Homecoming;** In which Nancy returns home, and a myriad of surprises await her. Maybe Jonathan is still her best friend, after all. 

_December 19, 1986_

The once silver sky that watched over Indianapolis had been dirtied with smog by midday.

Nancy Wheeler typically did not like Sundays. Why, she often wondered, does Sunday feel like the end of an era when, in actuality, it is always at the onset of the week?

But on this especial Sunday, she felt ecstatic in the middle of all the dreariness.

Because she was going _home_.

She was going to Hawkins.

She didn't care how corrupt or not it was. It was cherished, it was hers.

She had gotten up early. Very early, and ran errands.

Her retro saddle shoes tapped rhythmically against the rocky pavement as she approached her university.

She crossed the courtyard, adjusting the palmette printed duffel bag on her shoulder.

The parking lot ahead of her had never been so enticing.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

Jonathan Byers had been waiting for the 19th of December for an unjustified measure of time.

The reason was evident.

His newfound impatience said it all.

It was not nice being at his old residence.

Joyce cleaned it constantly, but it felt like someone else's house. Not his and not Will's.

Nevertheless, he preferred Hawkins over most other places. Even though it felt dusty and unromantic.

His hair was a little shorter. Joyce told him it looked ginger when the sun hit it perfectly. He was kind of taller, but so was Will.

Nothing was that different. Not really.

Except they were getting a visitor today. Everytime he thought about it, his limbs would tense.

He was sitting in the center of his living room. On the laminate floor. Sewing a tear in Will's Levi's.

He did not actually know how to sew, but his mom was out buying Irises for Nancy.

And Will only had one pair of jeans, and he was going with Lucas somewhere before they would all meet at the Wheelers' for Nancy's homecoming.

Jonathan could not recall where. His mind was preoccupied.

Anyhow, threading the needle was the hardest part, and he had gotten the hang of that easily.

And after 10 news stories had been announced on the television (he did not have a clock to look at, so the TV was the only way of noting time pass), he was finished.

So they did not look _great_ , but he guessed Will would value their revived practicality.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

Nancy drummed her ring finger against the steering wheel excitedly as she drove her jade Ford Fairmont into her old driveway.

The three hours of driving she had just done suddenly seemed insignificant.

She parked and turned the car off, opening its door. Her heart was doing jumping jacks. She hadn't seen her family since _May._

She picked up the single bag she brought and hurried to the front of the house. Christmas lights hung above the shutters. And were wrapped around the trees.

She knocked on the white panel door anxiously. Mike jogged athletically to the foyer, getting ready to let her in.

"Mo-om! Nancy's here!" He shouted obnoxiously.

"Hey!" She exclaimed as she saw him. He was taller than her now, his raven hair cut in a trendy style.

"What are you, 5'9"? Jesus," Nancy commented as he gave her an I'm-too-cool-to-show-that-I-missed-my-sister side hug.

Also, he dismissed the question, and they walked in the house.

"Hey, honey," Ted Wheeler greeted inattentively, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Eep!" Karen Wheeler shrieked enthusiastically. "There's my girl!" She wrapped her arms around Nancy affectionately.

She awwed faintly, and Holly duckwalked over, pulling on the hem of Nancy's sailor pants.

"Hey, Holly." Her voice raised an octave, and she went to pick the girl up, but remembered she was six now. Nancy settled on ruffling her hair.

"So, what have you guys been doing? How is everything?"

"Oh, we're doing just fine, sweetie," Karen returned to the kitchen and resumed making coffee. "What we really wanna know is how you're doing! How's college life?"

Nancy sighed. "It's alright. Kinda lonely, maybe. I have some friends here and there, but...whatever, it is what it is...I'm really enjoying my journalism class."

"Well, it's not too late for you to meet someone, you know."

Mike laughed heartily at that.

Nancy sat on the arm of their sofa, and began to take off her shoes.

" _Mom_ ," she warned.

"What? I'm just saying that college is a great opportunity for you to branch out. You know, explore the realm of guys outside of that immature high school mentality."

"I appreciate the advice, Mom," she replied sarcastically, standing up.

"Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler! What is the matter with you? Is there something wrong with a mother wanting her daughter to find a decent guy?" Karen put her hand on her hip.

"I've been here for 2 minutes, Mom! And you're already pressuring me! You couldn't ask me about getting a haircut, or classes, or something first? I'm not even 20 yet!"

Mike snickered again.

"Well, alright. Sorry. Are you thinking about getting a haircut?"

"Oh, my God," Nancy muttered in disbelief, and was about to walk outside as the doorbell chimed, startling her.

She twisted around. "Who's that?" She asked her dad.

He shrugged.

"Mi-ike! Ya there?" They heard Dustin's muffled holler on the other side of the door.

Nancy huffed, letting him in. "Nancy!" He raised his arm to highfive her.

She returned the gesture. "Hey, Dustin." She mumbled halfheartedly.

"Well, damn," he said under his breath, approaching Mike.

He only looked 5'7".

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

The Byers did not arrive until dark. After Hopper and Eleven were already there. A Ford LTD that once belonged to Jonathan came speeding into the driveway around 6pm, Will in the driver's seat.

He had obtained his learner's permit earlier in the year, against Joyce's wishes.

She sat in the backseat, jittering like a hummingbird.

Jonathan had somewhat guided him there from the passenger's seat. But Will had really done it by himself. Maybe Jonathan would have been a little more of a teacher if his nerves weren't so out of control.

"Will, Will, Will. Babe, you're parking way too close to Nancy's car. Would you back up?" Joyce piped up.

Jonathan's leg started bouncing at the mention of her name.

Will did as told and parked the car in a more appropriate space. He put his hand on the door handle.

"Hey, hey. Don't forget the keys," Jonathan reminded, not wanting to exit the car. Will pulled them out of the ignition, opening the door, and Joyce opened her door, too.

Jonathan swallowed his fear. He stepped out reluctantly. He stopped Joyce, putting his hand on her arm. "Do you want to bring your flowers you bought for her, Mom?" As if it _wasn't_ his idea to get them.

"Oh, yes! Th-thank you, sweetheart." He took a deep breath as she retrieved them from the backseat. And they walked. Well, Jonathan ambled.

Joyce knocked on the door softly, and Hopper opened it.

"Hey! It's the Byerses!" He declared playfully. Joyce smiled, patting his shoulder.

Walking toward Nancy and holding her arms out, she said, "There she i-is!" And they hugged sweetly.

Joyce handed her the Irises happily. "Oh, my gosh. Thank you guys." Nancy's eyes were kind. And Joyce began to talk to Karen.

"Will! You're taller than me just like Mike is. Now, I think that's not fair." She joked, holding her hand above his head as if she were actually measuring him.

Jonathan had forgotten how much of a terrific conversationalist she was.

"Yeah, but Mike's still taller than the both of us." He ran a hand through his hair. Nancy was still trying to process how old he seemed.

The other three boys had gotten up and started talking to Will. She turned to Jonathan.

Her expression was so good-natured, there were wrinkles beside her eyes. And she hugged him as if it were no big deal.

It was brief, and it was scary, and it was perfect. He wasn't used to it, and felt very jealous of the gracefulness about her.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Nancy."

"If you'll just give me a second to put these in water, we can catch up, is that fine?" She gestured to the flowers.

"Okay," he said, very self-conscious.

"Like your jacket," she added quietly, tugging on his sleeve, and then leaving.

His nerves didn't go away, and he went to sit beside Will in the living room. The other boys were ignoring Holly, but Will was coloring with her.

Jonathan observed them, feeling proud of him for being so thoughtful and considerate at only age 15.

Nancy had come back, straightening out her sleeves that she had pushed up when she was using the faucet.

She looked at Will and Holly, and put her hand over her heart in admiration before sitting next to Jonathan.

"That's so nice," she mouthed, not wanting Will to hear. Jonathan nodded.

She sighed. She would ask him how he was, but she knew he'd just say 'fine,' so that would be useless.

"Okay, I wanna say something, but I feel like you're gonna think I'm, like, a judgmental person."

"Nancy, I-I would never think that." He was honest.

She chewed on her lip. "I'm really upset with school right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone's so... _impossible_. I've yet to meet someone genuine, y'know?"

He nodded understandingly.

"I know that sounds harsh, it's just, I feel very out of place there."

He couldn't imagine her being out of place anywhere.

"I don't know. I don't like the sound of 'Indianapolis,' either." She laughed at herself softly.

"I think everyone's a little kinder here," he responded.

"Maybe so," she concluded. "What about you? New York is incredible, I'm sure."

"I'm not. It's very loud, and everything is expensive. Besides, I think I'm friends with approximately one person."

"And who would that be?"

"A guy named Carson. He's in my photography class. He talks constantly, it's kind of terrible."

"Well, you're probably the only person that actually listens to him. You're a good listener." She looked content.

"Also, it's really scary."

"How so?"

"Here, no one talks about talent. There, that's all anyone cares about. I don't like it."

"Yes, but you're very smart." She assured him.

"It's bright, too. At night, it's brighter than it was that morning. It's so different."

"I guess I think different is nice, then."

"Sometimes. I guess it can be. It is very far away, though."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"It's hard because I feel like I'm missing so much."

She was silent.

"I'm sorry. That sounded selfish. It's probably worse for you because you know it's only a few hours away, but you can't leave. I'm really sorry, that was..."

"No, it's fine. Leaving the people you grew up with is hard on anyone, I would guess."

He wondered how she had gotten so much wisdom. They were still teenagers, technically speaking.

"Everyone's been thinking about you," he mentioned softly.

"Yes, well, I've been thinking about this. Since September." She yawned.

This made him feel sleepy for a moment.

There was a tranquil silence for 9 seconds. Well, silence between the two of them. On the other side of the room, Dustin and Lucas were arguing about something.

"Hey, would you mind going outside with me? I'm getting a slight headache, I think."

"Are you okay?" He asked, seeming worried, and standing up with her.

"Yeah, I just think clean air might help."

"Promise you're okay?"

"Yes. Promise."

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

It was around 7 now. It smelled like chimney smoke outside, and the wind had grown harsh.

Jonathan was starting to be unsure of why she was reserving so much time for him since there were many people inside who wanted to talk to her.

They had been standing up for a considerable amount of time, talking about several things, but not themselves anymore.

"And, y'know, within minutes, she was already trying to, I don't know, fix..." Nancy was looking at the house as she stopped in the middle of her sentence.

"Nancy,"

She hummed a response lightly.

"What were you saying?"

She didn't reply.

" _Nancy_ ,"

"Yes?"

She was watching something, entertained, but not by their conversation.

She did notice that he wasn't speaking. "Oh. I'm-I'm sorry. Just...here," she grabbed his arm and pulled him to where she was standing so he could see the window at the right angle.

Mike stood with his hands on Eleven's shoulders in the hall. He was looking in her eyes, saying something. He seemed concerned.

Nancy seemed angry."What do you think he's saying?"

"She looks...scared," Jonathan noted.

"I don't trust him."

"What happened?"

She finally looked at him. "A week or so ago, on the 10th maybe, Hopper drove El to the university. And-and she was crying. She said she was having trouble...wi-with kids at school. I felt awful. Didn't know what to say to help her. Anyway, she brought Mike up. Obviously, she...she cares about him. And, I mean, I love him. Of course I do. But he's...he's...well, he doesn't know a thing about girls. Much less, a girl like El."

"Wait, what happened to her at school?"

"Just mean high schoolers. But I'm worried she'll never really-"

"Nancy..."

"Really settle in. She's different. She's special."

"Nancy..."

"What?"

Jonathan waited for her to look back at the window. He looked sympathetic.

Mike had kissed her.

"Oh, great. That's...oh, my gosh." She placed her hand above her eyes, turning into him.

"He's not even 16, yet. Is he?" Jonathan seemed conflicted.

"Definitely not," Nancy held his arm. He was standing to her left, and she rested the right side of her face on it as if she were being given a shot and had to look away.

"Don't say I'm overreacting, I know I am." She laughed in a suppressed manner at herself.

"You're alright. They're just talking now." He ignored how fast his heart rate was.

She exhaled, standing up straight. She watched Mike turn in the direction of her and Jonathan.

They stepped away. "They're walking out here." She said.

"They're gonna know we saw them." Did he really care? No. But Nancy did, and that's all that mattered.

"Pretend we were talking."

"Well, I don't know what else we were doing."

"Pretend we were talking about something _aside_ from them." She explained.

And Mike and El strolled to the backyard.

"Nancy!" He became jumpy, moving away from Eleven, who looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Wh-what are you doing out here?"

"Talking to Jonathan. We wouldn't be here freezing, though, if your friends weren't being so loud inside."

He opened his mouth, but made no sound.

"Do you...do you need us to _leave_ , or something?" Nancy was enjoying messing with him.

"Yes, we'll leave, so they can have their turn being cold." Jonathan announced quietly, taking her by the wrist and leading them away.

Nancy looked disappointed. "I wasn't done with them!" She whisper-shouted, her voice whiny.

"Yes, but they were done with us, Nancy. You can yell at him when he's older."

And she hesitantly walked through the door he was holding open for her.

 


	3. 2; The Restless

Division **2: The Restless;** In which a 24-year-old Nancy Wheeler is in the twilight of her career as a journalist and enlists some healing from Jonathan Byers, the altruistic photographer she has recently become engaged to.

 

_February 3, 1992_

 

Light breeze ruffling the dogwood trees, Nancy Wheeler walked along the line of New Yorker townhomes.

Earlier there had been a sunshower. Puddles cloaked the ground, reflecting the amber light of street lamps.

She grabbed hold of the twisted black railing, taking a generous step up to the first stair.

She reached the door, struggling a little with her key. Finally, at its creaky opening, she entered the apartment. Its scent was earthy, and it made her feel sentimental.

Just as she turned around, Jonathan was there in the hallway with her. His arms were already secured around her waist, making her back arch.

"How are you?" He asked gently when he let go.

"Still working as a temporary," she responded carefully as she took off her velvety jacket.

"I-I didn't mean that," he justified kindly.

"I know, it's just...frustrating."

"Did you start anything new today?"

She walked into the small dining room to wash her hands.

"Well, an infant boy drowned at the wharf this morning. My supervisor gave me that case. Made me interview his mother, that sort of thing," she raised her voice so he could hear her and was audibly on edge. "I felt so awful, asking her those mindless questions."

"I'm sorry," he sat on the arm of their couch. "Maybe if they'd let you have your own column..."

"I would have to stop you there. No one can even remember my name yet."

He stayed quiet.

She noticed a photograph on the table in the corner. It was in black and white, but looked extravagantly showy. Like some wild carouse.

"Jonathan?" She called as she entered the living room. "Did you take this today?"

He looked up at her, observing the picture. "Yes."

"Where?"

"At a banquet."

"A banquet? What for?"

"Kind of a...I'm not sure what they were celebrating, really."

She looked at it for a moment. "Do we get to keep it?"

"It's just a print. I was going to throw it away. There were better ones."

"What? We can't throw it away. It's _fantastic._ "

"Nancy-"

"You know what, I was just given the nicest frames! I'll have to find them."

"Nancy!"

"It'll just take a second!"

He sighed, listening to the rain that had started up again.

"For God's sake, what did I do with them?" She reentered the room, checking the drawer of a storage cabinet.

"Found them," she told herself joyfully as she took a carved frame into her hands.

Using an ironing board, she set it down and placed the photograph onto the glass. She folded down the metal clasps and fastened it in place.

He waited patiently.

She walked again to the hallway. Its cheap wallpaper was patterned with fleurs-de-lis. They had meant to replace it but hadn't since the engagement. She was starting to like it.

After several minutes, she had it set on the wall beside all of the other images of his she had kept.

"Are you done now?" He asked lightheartedly.

"Yes, I'm done." She drew the curtains close as the storm picked up.

"I wish we still got home at the same time. They've been keeping you so late." He explained sheepishly, standing up.

"Come on, it's not that bad."

"It was an hour and a half today!"

"That's 10 minutes less than yesterday," she mentioned hopefully.

" _Nancy_ ," he said desperately.

"There's just...not anything I can do right now, Jonathan." His hair was very bronzy in the dim light, and it was distracting her. "It sucks, I get it."

He played with her wrists as they stood in the middle of the room.

"You're a very good writer. I just..." He suddenly seemed nervous.

"Miss...." She suggested, holding his jaw now.

"Yes, miss you. Th-that's it." He finished quietly, his dusky eyes fixed on the floor.

And the telephone sounded noisily, startling them.

She kissed him anyway. "Forget the phone," she murmured against his neck.

He did not resist at first, charmed by her.

"Nance-"

The quietest person she knew, and _now_ he wanted to talk.

"Really, Nancy, it could-"

She continued to suspend his words, resiliently trying to get him caught up in the intimacy and being a little too rough with him.

"It...could be serious," he mumbled when he managed to pull away.

Nancy pressed her lips together, then exhaled shakily. On the opposite side of the room, she retrieved the pastel landline, which she had owned since she was a teenager.

"Hello?" She was clearly upset.

"Hi. I need to speak to Nancy Wheeler." The girl on the phone sounded much younger than herself.

"Um...this...this is she."

"I'm an assistant from the New York Ace. There is something your supervisor wanted me to discuss with you. Is...now a good time?"

"Uhh...yes. Yes, of course. Now-now's fine," she replied tentatively, trying to sound professional.

"Alright, well, you've been working as a temp for a while now, I see. That's correct?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay, well, there's a way you could get your very own section of the paper."

"What?"

"You'd be writing every week and not just filling out reports for the other writers."

"Wh-, I'm...I'm sorry...wh-where is this coming fr-"

"One of our regulars just got let go. Really. But we'd have to test you first. If you're interested."

"Well, yes. Of course I'm interested."

"Yes, we'll test, then. Think of it as an experiment. If you can get the works you've started this week done by 11 tonight, you could be one of the uniform authors here."

"What? You said 11? But...it's 7:30 right now." She explained, glancing at her watch.

"I understand that it's slightly inconvenient. We're keeping the building open until 15 after 11."

"I'm sorry. Can you slow down a little? You're saying I'd have consistent hours?"

"We can pay for your cab fare if you'd like," she offered, dismissing her question entirely.

"Really, can I please have some more information?"

"If it happens, it happens. Sound good?"

"Could I talk to...someone of higher authority? Please?" She hoped she wasn't being offensive.

"I'm sorry, that's all the time we have," the girl said as she killed the line.

Nancy certainly had not kept up with most of that.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, her voice fragile.

"What's wrong?" He questioned thoughtfully. He had been trying not to listen.

She huffed, scrummaging through a carpet bag. She held a journal in her hand and flipped through it quickly until she had located whatever she was looking for.

"This is ridiculous," she commented to herself again.

"Nancy?"

And she exited the room, saying, "horrible, ridiculous people."

"What happened?" He followed her childishly.

"Well, a very wealthy man has fired one of our writers, is what happened. And, what, I'm replacing her?"

He watched her with a confused expression.

"I'm the understudy! I'm the goddamn understudy!" She was looking for a pen now. "I've began to cover 4 cases this week. I can't believe he's making me do this!"

"What?"

"I've been offered a real job at the New York Ace," she declared bitterly.

"What? What is there to be mad about that?" He steadied her, holding her arms.

"I have to finish 4 separate stories before midnight!"

"And if, what, they use them? They'll give you a better job then?"

She obtained a stack of silky papers from the top of a bookcase. "In theory."

"That isn't fair," he decided innocently.

She almost laughed. "You can forget everything you know about fairness with them."

He viewed her sympathetically.

"Come on, Nance. You're not really doing this, are you? You've been working for 12 hours."

"What else can I do?"

He sat next to her at the dining table. "I know this would help us, but they are taking advantage of you."

"Jonath-"

"No, they are. They are. Look...I don't want you to be disappointed if this doesn't go well." He said emphatically in a low voice.

She blinked at him. "I have to try."

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

8:00PM

Nancy's penmanship was worsening by the minute. Her cursive letters were running into each other in a mess of ink.

"Hey, I'm gonna go, okay?" Soft-spoken Jonathan entered the room.

She was taken from her thoughts. "Go where?"

"I have to shoot for a wedding reception."

"Wedding reception! That's, like, a big deal. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did."

"You did? I'm sorry, I don't remember. How come I don't remember?"

"That's alright." He kissed her temple. "If you start to feel yourself going crazy, I want you to take a break."

"Fair enough...when does the event end?"

"Very late, but they're letting me leave at 12."

"Okay."

"Good luck." She yawned.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

12:30AM

The storm had subsided for a little while. It had been a long night for both Nancy and Jonathan.

His hands held onto the steering wheel. As he parked the car, its tires splashed the rainwater around.

He crossed the street, wanting dearly to fall asleep with her.

He noted that their lights were still on. As he walked in, his eyes had to adjust to the brilliancy.

Nancy had her head down on the wooden table, tranquil and overworked.

He was stilled, completely lovesick. Cautiously kneeling on the ground next to her chair, he petted her arm with hesitation. "Nancy," he whispered weakly.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head swiftly.

Looking regretfully at the papers strewn in front of her, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. They exchanged a meaningful glance before she said, "I can't keep doing this."

He shook his head.

"I was wrong about this, Jonathan." She steadied her breathing. "It's too much pressure."

He knew that this wasn't just about the one night.

They stood up together, and he pushed in her chair. "No, you're alright. Listen, we'll go...take them to the office early tomorrow, okay? If they don't want them late, they're not entitled to your writing." His voice reflected weariness.

She did not believe him, but felt encouraged.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

1:50AM

He laid very near to her, the cool bedclothes pulled up to their waists.

His restlessness derived from the occurrence of lightning and thunder.

Not knowing if she was awake, he stroked her naked shoulder with his fingertips softly.

She was non-responsive, and he decided on neglecting his exhaustion.

Because at least one of them had settled down.


End file.
